You're The Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: -Emily Prentiss always wanted to be someone else- /It's dark around them, the others fast asleep on their own seats. The only sound the distant roar of the plane and her own raged breathing. It's then that Emily realizes Reid is still holding her hand. Looking at her like he knows. Like he understands. -/ Emily P. & Spencer R.


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

******AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta reader clairebare!**

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**You're The Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be**

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Emily Prentiss always wanted to be someone else.

She hated being the ambassador's daughter all her life. Hated to be the person her mother wanted her to be. But she knew better than to disagree with her mother's wishes.

She kept her mouth shut, dressed like her mother wanted her to. Acted like the perfect daughter, always a polite smile on her flawless face. She learned to fit in, to be invisible. Became fluent in eight languages until she was able to listen to conversations she wasn't supposed to hear.

She was the good daughter to her mother, the sweet innocent little girl to the people her mother had to work with. To her teachers, an A student, to the boys an easy lay.

Getting pregnant at fifteen wasn't part of her plan though.

It had been Matthew who held her hand until she was allowed to leave the doctor's office. Matthew the only person who ever botherd to listen. The first person Emily allowed to see her for what she really was.

_A scared little girl looking for love._

They did the drugs together at first, but in the end she'd been the one who left him lost in the dark. Sent him down a path she never wanted him to take.

With a stoic expression on her face she followed her mother on the jet one morning, ready to leave Rome and Matthew behind.

She never dared to look back.

After college Emily went straight for Interpol. The chance of becoming someone else entirely to catch criminals, the best task she could dream of.

Even though her mother had played a big part in getting her the job, it was her own skill that proved she'd been worth it.

Emily knew that Clyde liked her right from the start. Liked her for ignoring everything he said, liked her for being stubborn as hell and doing everything he told her not to.

He called her darling instead of Emily, kept flirting with her. Always touching her a little longer than necessary.

Emily knew she could trust him, knew he would keep her safe as long as she was working for him. But she also knew that if it ever came to saving her or himself, he would choose his own life instead of hers without blinking. And she couldn't blame him.

After all she'd been raised to do the same.

.

She's sitting on a bench in a park, the burner phone pressed against her ear. Her eyes never leaving the little boy on the swing just a few feet away from her.

"Do you want me to get you out, darling?" Clyde asks her over the phone. His question a painful reminder that she doesn't belong.

"Do you want me to get you out?" Clyde asks her again. More determined this time.

And Emily thinks that yes, she needs him to get her out. That he should have gotten her out months ago.

That this time everything's different.

She closes her eyes, wishes she could tell him the truth. Shakes her head though she knows he can't see her.

"No," she tells him after what feels like a lifetime. "I'm fine." She ends the call before he can ask her again, afraid she might change her mind.

She gets to her feet, throws the phone into the nearest trashcan along with her empty coffee cup. Looks back at Declan when his cheerful voice reaches her ears.

"Lauren look I'm flying!"

With a smile on her face she walks over to the playground. Her eyes resting on the blonde boy flying through the air on one of the swings. Laughing. His blue eyes filled with happiness.

For him she needs to remain Lauren.

_Just a little longer._

At least that's what she keeps telling herself.

.

"Emily."

It's a man calling a woman's name that makes Lauren, close her eyes in defense. She's tired, her head hurts and all she wants to do is fall asleep. But the man is calling out again.

"Emily."

Lauren feels like screaming.

She buries her face in her hands, tells herself to breathe. To stay calm.

"Lauren."

She blinks. Looks up and finds a man looking at her. He seems concerned. Crouches down beside her, takes her hand. His fingers searching for her pulse point.

"Can you hear me?" he asks her and Lauren wonders why he looks so familiar. Why she's so sure she heard that accent before.

"Talk to me, Emily."

She blinks again. Looks around to find herself on a chair in something that looks a lot like a hotel room. How did she get here? How long has she been here? Where's Declan? And where's Ian?

Her body hurts, her eyelids feel heavy and she can't understand why the man keeps calling her Emily. Her name isn't Emily.

She watches the man reaching for her cheek.

"Talk to me, darling," he whispers. His blue eyes finding hers.

And Lauren thinks that she must know him, that this feels far too intimate. She tries to remember, but everything seems black. Her memory wiped. Her past forgotten.

"Emily."

"My name isn't Emily," she finally manages to get out. Wonders why her words sound so slurred. "I'm Lauren. Lauren Reynolds."

She watches him frown.

"You really don't remember who you are?"

Lauren shakes her head angrily. Stops when she starts feeling dizzy.

"Of course I do," she mumbles. "I'm Lauren Reynolds."

It's his time to shake his head. "No, darling. You're not." His voice firm, leaving no place to argue.

Lauren blinks.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" she asks, rubbing her aching temple with her finger. "Where's Ian? I want to talk to Ian."

She tries to get up, loses her balance before she even manages to stand. Stumbles and falls.

The man catches her halfway, just before she can hit her head against the table. And Lauren wonders why it's so hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"I want to talk to Ian," she tells him between raging breaths. "Where is he?" She tries to sit up again, but it seems impossible. Panic taking over.

"Where is he?" she asks again, horribly aware of the fact that she's crying. "Just tell me where he is!"

But the man still doesn't answer her, starts yelling for help instead. And Lauren can't help but cry even more.

.

Emily bites her lip, while she watches the darkness fly by at the window next to her. It's almost a week later now, but she still feels like she can't breathe.

She's restless, tired and exhausted at the same time. The last couple of days a horrible blur, a neverending nightmare.

_PTSD._

She shakes her head slightly, leans back on her seat and closes her eyes. She doesn't care about the words they use to explain her nervous breakdown.

She knows all the reasons better than anyone else. Knows all the answers they're still looking for. But she doesn't plan on telling them.

_At least not now._

She has to figure out how to hide Declan first, has to figure it out on her own and she has to work fast. She wishes she could ask Clyde for help, but she knows this time she can't.

She keeps watching the sky, keeps thinking about the little boy she wishes she could raise as her own.

"Emily."

She opens her eyes to turn her head and meet Clyde's stare. Wonders how long he tried to get her attention. And she can't help but be angry with him. Even when it's not his fault that she'd got sucked in too deep this time.

Even when it's not his fault that she fell in love with the enemy.

"Stop calling me Emily," she tells him. Wishing she wouldn't sound so desperate.

"It's your name, darling."

Emily shrugs. Looks down at her hands. "Stop it anyway."

And she means it. It still doesn't sound right. If she's honest to herself she has to admit that it never did.

Clyde becomes quiet, but she knows that he's still watching her.

"What should I call you then?"

_Lauren, _she thinks. _Call me Lauren._

But instead of an actual answer, she just looks back out of the window. Not saying anything.

.

They put her on desk duty as soon as she's back in London and Emily doesn't even try to argue. She takes a few weeks off, leaves the country and manages to get Declan and Louise out of Europe and with her to the States.

She buys a house and gets new identities for Louise as well as for Declan. Finds a friend she trusts. Stages their deaths, makes sure it looks real before she takes them to the airport.

Wishes she'd run off with Ian and Declan when she had the chance.

She hugs the boy goodbye with tears in her eyes, knows she'll never be able to see him again.

Back in London she finally allows herself to fall apart.

After work she heads from nightclub to nightclub, keeps sitting at bars, waiting for a nice guy with blue eyes to come and take her home.

Some nights she pretends to be a businesswoman, others to be a journalist or a nurse. Sometimes she's a loving mother, sometimes a cheating wife. She's Claire or Kate, Rachel or Debbie. Just a woman looking for some fun.

At the end of the night she always gets the chance to escape her own misery, even when it's just for a few hours.

It's Pierre, a nice looking guy with eyes blue as the sky and a face that looks just like Ian's, who makes her shatter.

She's lost the second he touches her, lost in the memory of another man touching her the exact same way. He keeps whispering in French, his words thick with lust and want and need and when he offers her the white powder she doesn't turn it down.

She's flying and floating and when he asks for her name, she doesn't think twice before she tells him to call her Lauren.

.

She's sitting on the Interpol jet, next to Clyde. He's telling her about a new case, while she stares at the folder in her trembling hands. Unable to listen.

Her head hurts, she feels nauseated. Her hands sweaty, her heart hammering in her chest like she just ran a marathon. She feels like crying.

Now she remembers why she stopped taking cocaine when she was 17. Remembers how she hated the aftermath of the drug. The sadness, the pain, the guilt. And she can't help but wish she had something left so she could take it now, just to stop the ache in her chest.

Knows she's going to buy herself some more as soon as she gets off the jet.

She bites her lip, tries to focus on Clyde's words, but she can't. Instead she thinks about taking that paper knife from the table between them and slit her wrists.

"Are you okay, darling?" She's startled by his voice.

When she looks up, she finds him staring at her. His eyes searching for an answer and she wonders what he sees when he looks at her.

"I'm fine," she tells him, the lie falling from her lips so easily.

Clyde doesn't look convinced.

"You don't look fine to me," he says putting away his folder.

She turns her head, takes a deep breath. She can't argue with that. She knows she looks as exhausted as she feels. Her face paler than usual, the dark circles under her eyes proof that she has trouble sleeping.

She leans back on her seat, looks out of the window and into the sky. Wishing she could just disappear somewhere behind the clouds.

It's Clyde who manages to get her a job at the BAU in Quantico, a whole new life waiting for her in the States. When he tells her she just stares.

He gives her a knowing smile, his hand resting on her shoulder just a second longer than usual, before he leaves her alone with her thoughts.

When Emily locks herself in the ladies to throw away what's left of her coke it's already gone from her jacket pocket.

.

At the BAU she's Prentiss.

They don't like her, don't trust her and they don't even try to hide the fact that they don't want her. Don't even bother to ask for her firstname.

It's karma, Emily thinks. It's what she deserves. And it makes her feel far more comfortable than it should.

They're on their way back to Quantico after one of her first cases. She falls asleep as soon as she sits down. Dreams about Ian and Declan as soon as her eyes fall shut. Dreams about living in that Tuscan villa again, about her own people taking her away. About losing _them_ all over again.

The ache in her chest so real, so heavy, she can't stop the tears from falling.

It's a warm hand around hers, a soft voice calling her name that makes her eyes snap open.

She blinks, looks around panicked. Meets Reid's hazel eyes, tries to remember when he sat down next to her. She wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her throat. Her cheeks still wet with tears.

It's dark around them, the others fast asleep on their own seats. The only sound the distant roar of the plane and her own raged breathing. It's then that Emily realizes Reid is still holding her hand.

Looking at her like he _knows. _Like he_ understands._

He holds her hand for the rest of the flight, hidden under the table and she lets him. Neither of them saying a word.

It's Reid who starts calling her Emily instead of Prentiss and the way he says her name, the way the syllables fall from his lips, makes it sound so different.

_Makes it sound right._

He makes her laugh, distracts her when her thoughts start to drift away. Hovering always right beside her, his nose buried in a book. Showing her magic tricks or asking her to play chees with him.

It's enough to convince the others that she's not a threat, enough for them to give her a chance. It doesn't take long before she can show them that she deserves to be a member of their team.

Doesn't take long before team members start to become family.

.

When John calls her she knows it's not a good sign. She meets him in a bar in the middle of the night where he tells her that Matthew is dead.

And for the first time in years Emily feels lost. Her walls breaking, her mask slipping and she knows it's written all over her face, when she walks back to the BAU asking Hotch to investigate Matthew's death.

When they close the case, it's Reid who finds her in front of that church. Her fingers frozen around the childhood picture in her hands, her lips turned an unhealthy shade of blue. Snowflakes glistening in her dark hair.

She doesn't flinch when he pulls her into his arms, his warmth spreading through her body. She buries her face against his chest instead, too tired to fight. Closes her eyes and tells him to take her someplace else, even though she knows it's wrong to ask him of all people.

But she's too weak to keep her walls up any longer and all she wants to do is to give in and forget.

She spends the night in his arms on the couch in his apartment. Her head against his chest, their fingers intertwined. And she wonders what he sees when he looks at her, wishes she could see it too.

But of course he doesn't know about all the secrets she keeps. Doesn't know who she really is behind all those lies. After all she doesn't really know herself.

He answers her unspoken question when he bends down to kiss her.

.

They don't talk about it, yet they meet in the darkness of his apartment whenever they have the time to.

It's a silent promise to soothe the pain, to take away the sorrow and the guilt. He makes her feel alive, makes her feel whole again. Reminds her of who she is every time he whispers her name.

He shows her the beauty he sees whenever he's looking at her, allows her to find herself in the security of his arms.

When she's alone, she feels lost. Feels like she's drowning, like she's falling apart and she hates it. She's not sure if she likes the woman he makes her.

It reminds her too much of the little girl she'd been once.

But she can't let go either, no matter how selfish it may be. Can't stop finding her way back into his arms.

.

When Sean shows up to tell her that Ian escaped from prison, Emily knows it's over.

She finds herself staring at the mirror for the rest of the night, telling herself that she is Emily Prentiss. That Lauren Reynolds is dead, that Lauren Reynolds never existed.

That everything she ever thought she felt for Ian Doyle had been a part of her job, nothing more and nothing less.

She stops meeting Reid, tries to push him away as far as possible to keep him safe. The thought of losing him too painful to bear.

When her dark eyes meet Ian's blue for the first time in seven years, she knows he's going to make her suffer.

Knows she deserves it. Isn't even afraid.

Lauren Reynolds died years ago and she's just relieved that Emily Prentiss will finally get the chance to join her.

.

She dies and yet she doesn't. It feels like a cruel joke when she opens her eyes and JJ tells her what they had to do to save her life.

Emily begs her to look after Reid, wishes she could at least tell him goodbye.

She stays in Paris, hides in Rome and Prague. Different cities, different identities.

_It never felt more wrong._

She keeps counting the days, weeks, months. Waiting for Ian to find and kill her.

Wishing he already had.

When she gets the call that Declan went missing, she doesn't think twice before she's on the next plane back to the States.

She's tired of running, tired of hiding.

_Ready to die._

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When her arms close around Reid for the first time in seven months, she wants to hold on forever, wishes she had the time to. He looks at her like she's a ghost and she thinks that somehow she really is. She wants to explain, knows she has to if she gets out of this alive.

In the end nothing goes as planned through, nothing works out the way it was supposed to and she wonders why she ever thought it would.

She kneels on the cold ground, her fingers frozen around Ian's. His blood on her pale skin, soaking the hem of her shirt. She stares at his body in front of her, dead and gone, tossed away like no one had ever cared. But that isn't quite right.

_Lauren did care._

And she still does.

She remembers the life Ian promised her, remembers the woman she wanted to be. For him and f_or Declan. _The grief in her heart a painful reminder how much she loved him once.

She bites her lip, tries to fight back the tears. Knows she can't allow herself to break down. Can't allow her team to see the truth. And she wonders where Declan went, wonders where they took him. But she can't bring herself to look away from Ian. Afraid he might disappear.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this._

There's a hand on her arm, a warm jacket placed over her shoulders. Someone says her name. A voice so soft, so familiar it makes her chest ache and her throat burn.

She blinks and looks up to meet hazel eyes. Reid's voice barely above a whisper.

And she wants to throw herself in his arms, wants to bury her face against his chest. But she knows she can't.

Emily Prentiss is dead.

The woman he's looking for gone.

.

Her team wants her to stay and join them again and she does because she knows she owes them.

She watches Declan walk out off her life all over again, wishes she could leave with him. Knows she lost the chance years ago.

She tries to remember how to be the person they want her to be. Tries to remember how to be Emily Prentiss again. That fine FBI profiler, that professional woman that compartmentalizes better than most people.

That woman that never listens to anyone, that always does what she thinks is best. That woman that takes bad guys down twice her size, that woman that doesn't need anyone.

But that woman got lost somewhere along the line and Emily has no idea how to find her again. She's not even sure if she wants to.

She visits that empty grave with her name on it. Stares at the words engraved on the headstone. Thinks about Ian, wishes the bullet had hit her instead of him.

She spends hours, days at the graveyard. Wondering if they're going to remove it one day.

It's just an empty grave after all.

Reid's still hurt, still mad at her and even more at JJ and Emily wishes she could change that. Wishes she could take the pain away from him. But she doesn't even know how to soothe her own.

She stays away from him instead. Always wishing they could go back to what they once had.

.

When Clyde calls and offers the chance to take over the London office, she tells him yes. And she thinks how strange it is that he always knows when to offer her an escape.

She leaves DC, leaves the States, leaves Reid and goes straight back to work. Hopes Reid is going to forgive her one day, hopes he's going to find someone else. Someone who deserves him more than her.

She takes over the London office, grabs what Clyde offers like a lifeline. Not planning to ever let go again.

Her work all that's left now.

She spends her nights alone in her apartment, hating her life more than ever. Thinks about running away, about changing her name. Knows how ridiculous it is to even think about.

Knows it's not even what she wants.

But she can't go back either, can't be Emily again. After all that woman had been just another act.

And she has no idea who she wants to be anymore.

.

She meets Pierre again on her birthday.

She's sitting at the bar of her favorite club, a martini glass in her hand. Trying to drink away the pain when he shows up out of nowhere. His blue eyes still as blue as they sky, still the same shade of blue Ian's had been. And it takes her more than thirty seconds to realize it's not Ian.

Her glass long shattered to pieces on the floor by the time she does.

She takes him home with her, takes his coke straight from her own living room table.

He talks to her in French, calls her Lauren again. His breath hot against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She closes her eyes, allows him to press her down on the floor. Tearing away her clothes.

It should feel right. But it doesn't.

When she wakes up, he's gone. Sunlight streaming through her living room, her clothes scattered all over the floor.

She sits up slowly, stares at the white powder still left on the table. The empty bottle of wine to her left, broken glass to her right.

Feeling utterly alone.

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She takes the Interpol jet to Washington a few hours later. Ends up in front of Reid's apartment door at 1:30 in the morning.

Her hands trembling when she finally manages to knock.

She hears something fall to the floor, a loud crashing noise that makes her cringe. Thinks it must have been books. Silent mumbling, footsteps and it takes forever before the door opens.

He's in PJ's, his long hair tousled, his eyes half closed. When he spots her, they grow wide in surprise.

"Emily?" he whispers, his voice thick with sleep. Her name falling from his lips so easily, so full of love, like he'd been waiting for months to just say it again.

And before she can stop herself she closes the gap between them, throws her arms around his neck. Tears blurring her vision. And she can't help but sob in relieve when she feels him pull her even closer. His lips against her skin when he starts to whisper her name.

_Welcoming her back home again._

And just then and there she knows that she's right where she belongs. That the only person she wants to be is the one he sees when he looks at her.

That for_ him,_ she'll always be _Emily._

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**Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.**


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